Page 7 of Falling for the Playboy Pilot

“You can’t keep treating my crew like punching bags,” he snapped back, raising his voice for the first time in months. Everyone around us went quiet. I could feel the eyes on us.

Chief and I had had our differences in the past but we usually kept them behind closed doors. I knew I was a hothead. I could lose my temper in under two seconds. I never tried to hide the fact I was an asshole. In fact, I made sure everyone knew it for a fact.

The crew, pilots, mechanics, and the little blonde were all watching us. People from the other hangars had come out to see what was going on. I didn’t particularly like drawing attention to myself right then but it was too late for that. We were in the thick of it, and honestly, it was probably a good thing we got this shit cleared up now. I wanted the whole crew to know I wasn’t going to tolerate anyone half-assing their work. Not when there was so much on the line.

“You’re a hell of a pilot, Dalton,” Chief said. “But that doesn’t make you a god. We’re a team here. And if you go rogue every time something goes wrong, you’re not helping—you’re just making noise. It’s hard enough to get good quality people out here. I don’t need you running everyone off because you’re in a shitty mood.”

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “Whatever. Maybe you should hire better people. I’ll have to come on shift a little earlier to check my own shit, is that it? Fine. I guess if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

I was about to excuse myself with the perfect exit after my blowup when Chief stepped in front of me.

He brushed crumbs off his shirt. “If you’re done throwing your tantrum.”

“I wasn’t throwing—” I started, but he held up a hand.

“You’re still on duty.”

I blinked. “The hell I am.”

He ignored me because we both knew he was right. I wasn’t off duty. In fact, I still had another ten days in my rotation. We did two weeks on, and if things were slow, we got two weeks off. In August, we were just on. We worked sixteen-hour days, seven days a week. We all agreed to sleep in December.

Chief turned toward the ball of piss and vinegar wrapped up in one of the prettiest packages I’d seen in a long time. “Dalton, meet Janna. Janna, Dalton. You’ve technically already met, I guess, but let’s pretend it wasn’t with him trying to murder Tyson.”

I glanced at her. Janna. The firecracker had a name.

“She’s the new spotter pilot,” Chief continued. “Fresh hire. And since you’re grounded for the rest of the day thanks to your busted release valve, I need you to take her over to the simulator and bring her up to speed.”

“No,” I said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

“Dalton.”

“I’m not a damn instructor. I’m not babysitting.”

“You’re not babysitting. You’re training someone who’s going to be flying up there with you while you’re chasing fire. That sound like something worth doing? You just threw a fit because people around here aren’t working up to your high standards. So train them. Let’s see if you can do a better job.”

“She can read a manual,” I snapped.

“Manuals don’t teach teamwork. Manuals can’t teach technique.”

“She just called me an asshole!”

“She wasn’t wrong,” Chief muttered. “You will work with her. And if I hear one more word of argument, I’ll ground your ass indefinitely.”

That got my attention. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” Chief said. “We all help each other here. That’s how we all stay alive. You’re not above that. None of us are.”

Janna stayed silent through all of it, though her expression flickered between satisfaction and regret. She probably hadn’t meant to start a war her first day, but it was too late to take the shot back once it was fired. I looked her over. She was young. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if she was old enough to have a pilot’s license, which I decided to point out.

“How old are you, anyway?” I asked, crossing my arms and giving her a onceover. She looked like she’d just graduated high school, not like someone with any real flying experience.

She was a tiny thing. Now that there was a good ten feet between us, I could get a better look at her. She was barely over five feet. Long blonde hair that was just a little too pretty for someone in our line of work. Her makeup was nominal, but she had that look of a spoiled, pampered beauty queen. While she looked youthful, she also looked sexy. All woman. Soft curves. Definitely a woman.

Her eyes narrowed, and she squared her shoulders, clearly ready for another round. “I’m old enough to know how to act like a grownup,” she shot back.

I smirked, despite myself. She had guts, I’d give her that. “Old enough to fly a plane, though? That’s the real question.”

“I’ve got my license,” she said. “And I’ve been flying for years. Just because I don’t look like some grizzled old pilot doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Chief stepped in before I could fire back. “She’s qualified, Dalton. And she’s here to learn. So quit being a pain in the ass and do your job.”

I glared at him but didn’t argue. He had me cornered, and we both knew it. If I wanted to keep flying—and I did—I would have to play along. For now.

“Fine,” I muttered, turning back to Janna. “Let’s get this over with.”

She didn’t move right away. Her eyes were still locked on mine like she was trying to figure me out. Or maybe she was just deciding whether to punch me in the face. Either way, she finally nodded and followed me as I stalked toward the simulator room.